Tag: Marijuana

Astronauts, tired of endless scientific experiments and tedious docking procedures have completed final docking of an entirely new “chill room” which features a specially designed zero-G couch, a PlayStation 3, and a huge keg. The new room is also “420 friendly” as advertised on craigslist, which is identified as the module’s point of origin.

Some of the residents of the International Space Station have given the “chill room” two thumbs up, praising it for the high resolution of the HD television and great satellite TV reception. The gamers, however, complain of “laggy” game play issues that are entirely ruining their experience.

Cutaway view of the International Space Station's brand new "chill room"

“I didn’t become an astronaut so I could have a first rate gaming system with a second rate network connection” complained one Cosmonaut, who later professed his love for Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare. “I’ll shoot the guy, square in the face, and next thing you know I’m being shown a ‘kill cam’ in which I stupidly stare at some n00b wildly spraying bullets in my direction. What a fucking let down.”

The “chill room” also features a telescope window where Astronauts can look at stars and shit, while gaping in glassy-eyed stupor at the wonder that is so far out of their reach. One totally screwed-up ‘naut stared at the Andromeda galaxy for an entire hour, “All of the sudden I realized, dude, that thing is only a few inches big on my telescope but in all likelihood comprises thousands if not millions of planets that bear life.”

Ground control has repeatedly had to discipline the Astronauts for leaving the “chill room” a complete mess. “When they’re up there, floating around sleeping in zero-G with Doritos and PS3 controllers floating all over the place, it can get dangerous. The best we can do is to signal a critical alarm, and hope they don’t just go back to the booze when they realize what we’re trying to do. It hasn’t been working out well.”

Astronaut productivity is down nearly 30 percent and one experiment which is monitoring the effects of zero gravity on a small population of shrimp has apparently disappeared. The implication is that the experiment was eaten. Freeze-dried rations are pitiful munchies, and perhaps we can forgive our Astronauts, because like us, they don’t really give half a shit about how shrimp deal with living in space.

Internet. You give me a lot of problems. But mostly you just give me solutions. Actually more problems.

Number one, I do not know what to masturbate to – you are just so full of surprises!

Number two, I can’t trust Wikipedia. Anybody can edit that shit! Come on now! That’s got to make it the worst source of reliable information since Pepsi’s homepage.

Number three, Google. WHAT THE FUCK YOU CONTROL INFORMATION, WAY TO GO. You are the Wal-Mart of the Internet.

Number four, Net Neutrality. You are the single most stressful term about the internet. I’d die protecting you, if I didn’t know you’d still be sold right out from underneath us, destroying freedom of speech and free enterprise as we know it.

Number five, you’ve changed the news. Like porn, you used to have to pay for the news in some way – even if it was just an advertisement on TV. Now, you don’t have to pay for shit. Way to go, internet. I won’t have a job after I graduate. But what the fuck do you care? With each keystroke, I’ve done a little more work for you – for free.

Number six – I just heard Barack Obama can take control over the entire internet in the event of a “data emergency” – Obama can privately Google himself in the dark now. He will start a blog about something that matters a lot to him. Or just look at porn. Note: this came from FOX News, so it is probably true. I did zero fact-checking for your convenience.

Number seven – you’ve dissolved friendships using fakebook and myplace. I have to commend you for this. I thought I’d never be able to keep an endless supply-chain of excuses going not to hang out with “friends.” Now that we’re always friends no matter what I do, I can ignore them forever and die alone! Just the way you told me I always wanted it.

Number eight – How in the Lord Fuck am I supposed to turn my back on you knowing you hold the entire wealth of collective human knowledge? I once stayed on the internet for four days, tripping on morning glory seeds and reading desperately about String Theory, believing I was looking God in the eye. Now, I can only live out my day-to-day “sunshine” life knowing that I’ve turned my back on the source of all things known so I can make pizzas, rent movies, and park old rich fuckers’ cars. I’m sorry Internet. I didn’t intend on having a real life. I promise to quit a job for you one day.

Number nine – youtube – what’s with the copyright bullshit? How long are we going to pretend like China doesn’t get away with piracy 1,000 times per second?

Which leads me to number ten: BIT TORRENTS!!! SWEET JESUS I BET THE SUPREME COURT WISHES THEY NEVER FUCKED WITH NAPSTER! TV shows, entire albums, fuck – whole discographies – of any band, whether they suck or not, are there for the taking. If Bit Torrent was a store at the mall, a mall that also had a GameStop, Best Buy, SunCoast Videos (or whatever that video store is called), and an adult book store, the Bit Torrent would act as a black hole and just fucking consume those wussy “capitalist ventures” in the name of EVERYBODY TAKE THIS SHIT BECAUSE IT’S FREE AND ONLY CHUMPS AND DUDES IN BANDS PAY FOR IT. “Support live music” is totally my thing. But I’ll download your album, if you just promise to come back to my city next year so I can pay to meet you. I don’t buy CDs. That’s for people who still watch MTV. Although I did buy that sweet stereoscopic Tool album. Great driving music! The whole album is listenable.

And finally The Elf Wax Times – it’s got to be the best thing since marijuana, our top keyword. This place means more to me than season 22 of the Simpsons. Funnier than Nickelodeon’s “Doug.” Twice as entertaining as a new Law and Order. More culturally relevant than Monica Lewinski. More up to date than Weenus, Incorporated. Better than you. And huffing paint since 2008. FUCK YEAH GOLD BLING BLING – TASTE HEAVEN!

Staff Writer - Elf Wax Times

So fuck you, Internet. I have to be awake in three hours. Plus I’m drunk. Fuck you internet. You don’t understand me. Your whole operation is fuck you internet! I will kill you. After Hussein Backara shuts you down, I will choke you to death in a field. Stupid internet.

Roanoke, Va.–This girl I liked when we were in ninth grade was really cute and had pretty green eyes. I told her one day as we were walking to the buses and she said ‘thank you.’ I never thought another thing of it because chasing tail, I decided, wasn’t my thing at that age. I still liked cartoons and videogames way too much to give all my energy to a time-vacuum like a girl and her problems.

Six years later, she came over to my close, personal friend’s house seeking heroin. Evidently, she’d found a boyfriend who uses heroin, and she herself got addicted so they could enjoy the drug together. What dedication! I can only imagine how poisonous their relationship together is. If you’ve ever seen Requiem For A Dream, you know what I’m talking about. Obviously, not every chemical romance is like that, but the movie is a very accurate depiction of how many of these kinds of relationships work out.

Now, I have a long-term girlfriend but she is not a painful soul-vacuum, nor does she any heroin – or any hard drug, for that matter. There’s a better way to keep a woman around without addicting her to a fatal drug, or so I like to think. I’d say that I’ve struck an almost psychologically unheard-of balance in which I get to be myself and happy with a woman at the same time. I get to play my videogames and have great sex, too. What’s more, I get to spend any or all of my time at the aforementioned best friend’s house on Bent Mountain because my girlfriend is not a succubus time-hog whose permission is required to fart.

Sometimes I go to my friend’s house and we just play videogames and talk about the latest Elf Wax and how epic it will be when the mainstream media bows to its superiority as the earth shatters under the weight of the resulting irony. Other times are spent watching as drunk, worthless chicks file in and out during the occasional party. It doesn’t happen often, because there’s always an active XBOX 360 in the room – a natural female repellent. But it still happens.

The other night, a girl came in and proclaimed, “I’ll get wasted tonight. I wanna get drunk and make a mistake. A mistake that makes babies.” I hadn’t noticed her until she said this. To me, women at parties are usually inconsequential, serving their benign purpose of making the men talk louder in their presence and nothing more. Also, they are good for starting fights, and beyond that, you’re lucky to bang one and forget about it. You never date these girls. This particular girl was your typical party slut. Kind of chubby because she is too dim to recognize a correlation between McDonald’s, beer, and her faltering appearance. Kind of slutty because the fatter a girl gets, the easier she has to be in order to compensate for her decline in received sexual attention.

So to what I thought was actually the fabled tongue-in-cheek wit coming out of a girl’s mouth, I yelled out, “Yeah, pregnancy, alright!” Nobody laughed. I guess (with good reason) they took her very seriously and the chase was on. Or perhaps they didn’t hear me, because it was funny and the way I said it was funny too, and nothing that leaves my mouth is short of genius. Regardless, I never took my eyes away from Nazi Zombies, at which I was brutally kicking the asses of the undead Wehrmacht.

Around me, cheap beers turned into cheap shots, and this girl got wasted, just like she said she’d do. Much unlike a woman, she stuck to her word, however I was still unimpressed because she hadn’t yet made any mistakes, aside from tipping the bong in the wrong direction and spilling filthy, stinking bong water into the couch cushions. I saw it. It was yellow coming out. Very old, putrid water. Not one oxygen molecule to be found in it. It stunk and made her stink because she’d also spilled it on her clothes. How gross.

The party continued. She flirted with the Brosephs and loved their ability to put unbroken sentences together (when college guys feel intellectually dominant, they like to talk in a loud, reverse-Seinfeld tonality). She revealed her true stupidity when she asked, “Where are you from?”

“They’re from a college, honey. Not a different state. Just not the Food Lion you work at.” My thoughts were growing cynical. It was time to play some killer jams. Oops, no good. The Brosephs took over tha party, bro. They’ve been in there tuning up for two and a half god damn hours and the drummer’s still sitting there twiddling his balls around. You gotta wait, bro. Bro. Dude. Gotta wait. “Get out of my god damn way and let a real musician play you fucking Modest Mouse-imitating honkies with your lame fail-minor chords and shit-eating cock-bang-the-drum-rhythms.” Rather than say this, I thought it, and chose to wait outside patiently by the campfire. The girl was there.

After begging everyone present at the party to take shots with her, one at a time, she still couldn’t bait an erection out of even the drunkest men, with the lowest standards. She had begun to embarrass herself by moving person to person, sitting in their laps and seeing if it took. Even after some very obvious lines of questioning, that went from, “I’m tired, I want to go to bed,” to, “I’m going to bed now,” to, “Do you like holding me?” to, “You want to come to bed with me?” she was having trouble getting results.

This worked on one guy. I knew his name because he played Nazi Zombies with me earlier and we shared victory. We got to level eleven together which had yet to be seen on this particular night, and so it felt good. He had originally showed up with a twenty-four pack of Bud Light, so he was drunk and getting drunker.

Sitting by the campfire and watching this pitiful scene between them in which she sat on his lap and he expressed his enjoyment of it, I thought, “This is it. She’s going to finally get fucked like the whore she is on one of those filthy beds in the back room. Won’t that be a pleasant Roanoke memory?”

Then, something interesting happened. He started playing hard to get. Not too hard, because I could tell he still planned to do something with her, if it was really going to be this easy, but he wanted to do it his own way, not hers. What he started doing was saying really funny shit to her, like “Sure, I’ll take you home, but you won’t like where home is,” and then he said something along the lines of, “That should correct your mistake.”

At this, the girl began crying. She’d already done this off and on throughout the night when no one would pay any attention to her. Still sitting on this guy’s lap, she looked around the campfire at a circle of unfamiliar faces, lastly at mine, then turned to the only other girl present, her friend who she showed up with, and begged her to call some one and have her come pick them up.

Almost simultaneously, a bearded man appeared in the doorway of the house – a violent drunk who’d passed out early but knew this girl personally. He approached her with two gallant strides across the yard, asking her, “Do you want me to make you feel really good?” Her eyes melted from personal ownership to childish submission as he took her around the side of the house, where the two were not seen again for at least an hour. The girl disappeared. Chris, my Call of Duty partner, said nothing. Simply opened another beer and enjoyed the company of friends, as he’d been doing before the girl materialized in his lap.

The party was over. I went to sleep and woke up sick. Sick, because I smoked from the same bong as that filthy petri-dish of a girl from the middle of the state. Some unknown, unnamed hick town smaller than this one. The only kind of place capable of producing a dispirited character so familiarly squalid and lacking of common sense or decency. A desperate fat sow whose social success hangs on her ability to fuck someone new at every alcoholic gathering. The product of boredom due to excess. Of a lesson learned in which doing nothing equals doing something as long as a dick still penetrates her at the end of the night.

Hers was a life that led her to pouting her ass around, like a cat in heat, for the first burred penis whose instincts could safely guide it into the dark hole at the end of the tunnel-vision. First shaking it in front of this lap, and then that one, and another one only to be swept up by a surprise male she didn’t expect. But it makes no difference anyway, because she’s chosen the life of a vapid, disease-ridden drunk whore with no inspired future and ugly, meaningless friends, yet retains the ability to carry around a false sense of daytime dignity because she attends a community college somewhere.

A girl who has everything and gets nothing out of it. Has nothing good to say but is feverishly pounding texts out of her cell phone. Knows nothing even though she has the Internet, because she only uses it for Facebook and MySpace.

A girl who will never find this highly-detailed account of her actions, even though I wrote elfwax.com down on a slip of paper and threw it into her purse when she wasn’t looking.

Washington, D.C.– In a harrowing defense of marijuana’s ongoing criminal status, FBI Director Robert Mueller successfully lumped marijuana in with all drugs. Dopes on the list include meth, heroin, oxycontin, crack and cocaine, but not alcohol, during a debate with Steve Cohen (D-TN). “Alcohol,” he said, “is just poisonous enough in its own right to remain.”

Steve Cohen asked Mueller, “Can you give statistics that point to deaths relating to marijuana?” Mueller said he could not. That is when he employed the “gateway drug” argument, familiar within the intellectual circle of teachers, preachers, school principals, police officers and FOX News viewers. And your granddad.

Tennessee Congressman Steve Cohen’s embarrassing loss in the marijuana debate can be seen here:

Elf Wax Political Science Department analysis hails the FBI director’s clandestine reinforcement of the perceived evils of marijuana, calling it, “a classic D.A.R.E. response, sure to win the hearts and minds of parents who lost children to rampant heroin addictions everywhere.”

Brian “Honeybee” Seesaw, chief Elf Wax drug abuse aficionado, said, “What’s more, is he managed to exact upon all people with drug addictions the notion that they all started with ‘pot’ or ‘grass’, or what is known scientifically as ‘The Devil’s Weed’ by citing anecdotes he imagined in which a parent might hypothetically say their son smoked pot in addition to snorting cocaine. That’s hard-hitting evidence if I’ve ever seen it.”

Furthermore, Robert Mueller reassured Americans that forty percent of them are in fact dangerous drug-abusing criminals, and ought to be locked up or at the very least fined, placed on probation, urine-tested monthly, and disallowed to drive a vehicle, staining their records permanently.

The pot-smoking, acid-dropping Democratic Representative of Tennessee had no further questions for Mr. Mueller and later indicated to the press he would be checking himself into a rehabilitation facility following the discovery of Cohen’s recent shameful thoughts found in CNN’s broadcast of his unpatriotic questioning of the supreme (im)balance of power and his Communistic lack of trust in the State’s ability to make every American’s personal, spiritual, and moral decisions for them.

Cuthbert, Ga.–A local clergyman molested three boys in the course of one morning shift in the confessional box. On this subject, Pope Benedict XVI spoke publicly, however bluntly, when he told the press, “Join us or die.” The spiritual leader then claimed to be pure energy, and compared himself to “the malevolent moon” whose gravity controls the soul-washing high tides of the Dark Side. More as this familiar saga unfolds.

Pope Benedict XVI, seen here coaxing

young Skywalker into the Dark Side

In other news, your friendly neighborhood truth outlet, The Elf Wax Times, has once again raised the bar on excellence in journalism. Elf Wax Laboratories, in conjunction with Big Brother, have staged a three-front media gang-bang in the form of interactive chat rooms and forums that can now be found right here on the very page you’re happily absorbing.

Possible uses for these chatrooms are:

Community organizing (just like Barack Obama!)

Internetpredation

Learning

Discussion of current events

Discussion of painful past events

Discussion of events that will likely never happen but are still theoretically probable

Discussion of conspiracies as though they are fact, and/or happening right now

Cyber (for best results, use 15/f/ca)

Join your Elf Wax Staff for extended discussion around subjects that you think, or pretend to think, matter most at Lebal Drocer Incorporated (LLC). It’s what the president would do if he no longer had full administrative access to the United States’ confiscated drug supply.

Los Angeles, Ca.–Neil deGrasse Tyson, astrophysicist and author of the popular 2007 book Death by Black Hole, confirmed the Earth is in fact doomed to survive through the routine events of December 21, 2012.

The educated assurance of this world-renowned scientist is rumored by analysts to have no bearing on those who already believe the world is going to end, or those who want to believe the end is near. Elf Wax scientists point to evidence of a parallel school of irrational constructs known as “Christianity” in which its members unwaveringly believe “a magical man lives in the sky, rewarding good behavior, damning the bad, harshly judgmental of everyone but enveloping by contradictory default the subjective individual with understanding, infinite forgiveness.”

Experts say that because human beings are prone to holding such “ridiculous” superstitions, there is no longer any point in acknowledging them and therefore all stories involving concepts categorized as religion or auto-philosophy (a concept similar to auto-fellatio but taking place in the mind rather than upon the genitals) in the future are no longer newsworthy as they are meaningless and stand in the way of human progression toward enlightenment.

Added John Hippenstock, lead Elf Wax scientist, oceanographer, and autophilosopher, “Fuck you and the zeitgeist. And Jane Fonda. The West is the best! The South Beach Diet will rise again. Woo!” Dr. Hippenstock then revealed two revolvers, fired them wildly into the air, holstered them, defecated, ripped off his pants, moaned incoherently, and proceeded to recite pi out to the twenty-seventh decimal, which is – not coincidentally – 27.

Washington, D.C.–Due to coming into close physical contact with government pigs in Washington, U.S. President Barack Hussein Obama has been diagnosed with the H1N1 virus, popularly known as swine flu, following a doctor visit Friday.

Noticeable symptoms include tiredness of the eyes, a glazed “thousand-yard-stare” and the onset of a delirium so intense that President Obama has accidentally given all the taxpayers’ money to AIG, which was consequently sent to Europe and China. The president has also begun weighing unseen, possibly imagined factors that incidentally, are found to have greater impact in the ongoing financial crisis than the broad lexicon of “facts” and trends made publicly available by the powers that be.

President Hussein, consulting Jihadists on foreign policy

“This newfound insight gained from the President’s crippling delusional attacks has opened a window through which the public can now see what really affects world politics,” Professor of Political Science at Berkeley, California and tweed jacket enthusiast, David Brunauer said earlier this morning.

“He keeps talking about this little smokey room that he’s forced into on a weekly basis and made to watch pro-Deion Sanders propaganda,” Brunauer intimated. And then panic flashed through his eyes, as he rhetorically asked, “Is that guy even relevant to football anymore?”

The room is allegedly decorated with Miley Cyrus and Hannah Montana flair so concentrated it can transform any man’s ordinary sexual conviction into raging pedophilia.

“Hanging from the ceilings are hooks, chains and leather straps,” Brunauer described. “I’d like to see this room,” he said skeptically, “And I’d sure like to experience it.”

Indeed, the journalism community is swarming with ant-like fervor around these new details, as signals of a New World Order are coming to light – small rooms where the world’s fate is decided by brainwashing techniques centered around a post-pubescent-but-not-quite-legal collage of Disney’s top-earning star. The president and forced sodomy. His relationship to Saddam Hussein Obama [deceased]. His recent affection for Hugh Laurie and his award-winning portrayal of the pseudo-doctor, Gregory House.

Secretary of State Hillary Clinton said of Obama, “He’s been holed up in the White House bedroom for close to two weeks now. I peeked in on him earlier today and he was sprawled out across the top comforter of the king-size presidential bed on his stomach, watching House on his laptop, complaining of Hulu.com’s interjecting advertisements, and kicking his legs around in the air behind him like he didn’t have a care in the world. Iran is building nukes, God damn it!” Clinton’s face then melted, revealing the menacing facade of a cinder-eyed cyborg, gnashing its silvery teeth for Elf Wax reporters. This is part of her regular self-destruct sequence, however, and aides reassured the press that it is no cause for alarm.

Hillary Clinton braces for meltdown

As swine flu rips through the White House, out of its bursting seams come the tides of change, but not the change Americans voted for back in November. Some analysts are saying swine flu is just what the country needed. Others warn of an impending apocalypse as the President’s mental breakdown points to a takeover by the Chinese Mafia. “A bloodless coup is pretty much impossible at this point,” warns chief military adviser Harry Branch, “as Russia and China have dedicated themselves to rebuilding their arsenals, akin to a modern-day Cold War arms race.”

President Obama reports that in the coming war, he will have the computer banks of his Central Command Center hooked up to Blizzard’s real-time strategy game Starcraft, so that he “may better command his forces in a way that he is most familiar with.”

Ridiculously, Obama believes the computer game will simulate the real-life forces and effects of the U.S. Army, in spite of the fact that neither Russia nor China will respond with “a predictable Zerg rush,” as his new, hallucinated cabinet has forecast.

The president says it will be a long, drawn out single-player campaign, during which nobody will have the opportunity to use his home computer for any purpose, even to briefly check their gmail accounts. Not even porn will be allowed, Obama said. He explained, “What is not widely known about Starcraft is that pressing alt+tab will minimize the game so that other programs may be used. That’s great, but when you bring Starcraft back to full screen, the colors are all messed up, requiring a restart, and that is a threat to the country I can not in good conscience permit.”

An SCV rush, or what Obama calls “The Peoples’ Revolt”

Due to multiplying health concerns, many Americans have come forward asking Obama to be the first black man to step down as president. “Sensing weakness in your pathetic hearts,” he replied, “I will not step down as president, but I will step up my game, and step on anybody who tries to get in my way, including you, your family, your lives and this country. But I will not walk on China, to whom I have just surrendered the last of our physical currency.” Obama then said, “Good game,” and went back into the oval office, where Maury could be overheard declaring someone to be the father of yet another unwanted child. The move was dubbed an ‘allied victory’ so Americans can still say they’ve “never lost a war.”

As of now, the country is in turmoil and things are just getting worse thanks to the critically-flawed strategies of the Obama administration. The Chinese drug lords have officially breached the ground floor of Elf Wax Times Western Hemisphere North American Headquarters, Cuthbert, Georgia, declaring martial law.

This just in: S.O.S. we are being held against our wills and are being told via translator that death camps await the Elf Wax staff for severe penalties against the Central Chinese government relating to a video released last month of actors pretending to be Chinese guardsmen protecting the values of China in Tibet. Several of us have been killed for attempted escape. The rest will follow. May God have mercy on our souls.

Roanoke, Va.–A Roanoke man savagely mutilated himself Friday while trying to prove to his ex-wife he was “still man enough to sexual role-play and use a skill saw naked.” Sources say he was attempting to sacrifice the family housecat to the love gods when things suddenly appeared very wrong.

Tina Shrubman, a 46 year old “homemaker” described the scene to police and reporters a “bloodbath, not in the sexual way, but almost,” as the man’s dismembered tool flopped around like a suffocating fish on the counter-top in her Martha Stewart-influenced kitchen. Lustily, Shrubman bit her lower lip.

Lieutenant Leroy Jackson, who is not supposed to disclose any details around an ongoing investigation, revealed to reporters, “Cletus Ragburn, waited for Ms. Shrubman’s return in her living room, naked, prepared to operate a table saw mounted on two sawhorses. Confused, she instinctively pepper-sprayed him, causing his thumb to react, triggering the power saw to spin out of control and fall to the floor, castrating him in the process.”

When asked where the pet would be sent for treatment, Jackson replied, “I am not at liberty to divulge that information.”

Joe Diamond, attorney for Ragburn’s johnson revealed that the member was seeking severance pay, a full health insurance package and a guaranteed nine-to-five stroke job.

This evening, a black hole instantly spawned inside our solar system. The event occurred so suddenly that scientists have not been able to determine its preconditions, but more presently, they are concerned with how humanity will go about tackling this catastrophic phenomenon of rapidly-impending doom.

Two brave Elf Waxtronauts

Commented Stan Stientenblauer, the Pentagon’s leading astrophysicist and top scientist on the case reported to the press moments ago that, “It’s dangerous to the Earth. It is also dangerous to humanity and her precious, precious domination over all of Mother Nature. Our clocks are beginning to speed up but our perception of time is slowing down. Tomorrow’s traffic report is not looking good. And you can forget about Monday.”

This small Virginia town is writhing in turmoil. To escape the confusion of what is shaping up to be True Armageddon, Roanoke citizens have taken to their televisions, watching emergency reruns of Frasier, Lost, and 24. Some have ordered pizzas. Some are on a savage looting spree Downtown. Other citizens, like Leesa Brenner, a Roanoke Junior High School teacher told E.W. Times reporters from her front porch, “I Just want to put this whole mess behind us.” Her ex-husband but live-in boyfriend, carpenter Steve Crowe, threw his hand up to the sky, and announced, “It’s time to get on with life.”

The couple would not agree to any further questioning and went back into their home, where Maury could be overheard declaring someone the father of an unwanted child. Overhead, the black hole can be seen clearly in the evening daylight. Streaming sheets of rearranged matter clouds together perfectly from all directions into the vacuum of the all-consuming abyss, and growing exponentially. Doctor Raymond Sexjoy has warned of a highly-inevitable spaghettification due to set in within twenty-five minutes, pursuant to our crossing of the event horizon, due to take place just moments after the upcoming opening credits to The Simpsons. Commenting on humanity’s ability to control the crisis, Sexjoy said, “Oh heavens no. We’re all fucked,” as he lit a cigarette, and twisted morbidly out of proportion until he exploded apart into a stream of atoms.

WILMINGTON–Several college students at UNCW were arrested for doing some things that don’t even exist, that is, ‘intent to manufacture marijuana.’ Police Chief Entirely Fictional explained, “They were trying to assemble all these amino acids, cellulose, and water, trying to recreate marijuana from the ground up. Of course, this is entirely impossible and illegal.” He went on to tell reporters at The EWT that they will be slapped across the wrists by public officials, figuratively, and then crucified by community service. The community is busy congratulating itself on how great it is.

Every student who bought marijuana from these kids benefited in mind and body by choosing not to wreck their brain, their memory, their liver, and their entire digestive system with a case of cheap beer. Instead, they took one puff of the good stuff and ate some Flaming Amy’s. Undercover Officer Rick Deckard said “Every time I bust a stoner, I tell myself, ‘they’re just androids,’ but I know they really contain a conscious mind, albeit different from my own.” Of course, since Rick is just a character from Blade Runner, all undercover cops who made a buck off of marijuana are no better than the students involved.

UNCW remains a campus full of mostly-drunken raving morons who are glad to see the harmless punished because of minor disagreements about recreational drug use. The state attorney’s office has issued marijuana possession charges to all people stating an opposing position because that is enough evidence. All such cases are already closed, defendants guilty, and Sheriffs busy collecting the convicts.